


Remember, Relive

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dom!Sam, Face Slapping, Hitting, M/M, Mouth Fucking, Rough Sex, Sub!Dean, consensual pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9843890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: After the events of season 12 episode 11 ("Regarding Dean") Dean may have got all his memories back - but that's not the same as actuallyremembering. For that, he needs Sam.Set in the same universe asA Story For Another Dayand maybe alsoThe Devil's Touch.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BaronSamedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronSamedi/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Myri (aka [baronsamediswife](http://baronsamediswife.tumblr.com/)!!!! I hope you enjoy your gift! <3<3<3
> 
> And thank you, dearest Sandy ([buttheyrebrothers](http://buttheyrebrothers.tumblr.com/)) for beta-reading this for me. :)

It’s been a couple of days already since Dean got his memory back, but for some reason Sam still can’t shake the feeling that there’s something not quite right with him. Something seems to be lingering on Dean’s mind, clouding his eyes and numbing his smiles.

Dean seems tense at times, more on edge than usual, just off. He doesn’t sleep most nights and during the days he’s so worn out and wired that the smallest things startle him. A waitress dropping a knife behind the counter of the diner in the middle of nowhere, a cat crossing the cracked asphalt a couple of feet ahead of them when they’re just about to leave their parking spot on the side of the road, pebbles crunching under the Impala’s tires, Sam’s hand running through his hair after sex.

Now, Sam is a firm believer in talking and sharing and working things out, even though Dean isn’t, so on a Friday night, two weeks after the spell has been lifted he decides that he has to take matters into his own hands.

“Dean,” he says and Dean looks up from the laptop’s screen in yet another run-down motel room just outside the city limits of Tama, Iowa, his brows furrowed and his eyes still a little bit unfocussed from reading for hours.

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on with you?”

“What?”

Dean sounds something between confused and a little worried. His eyes narrow as he swallows and licks his dry, slightly cracked lips.

“Ever since that spell there’s been something wrong with you, something off. I want to know what it is. Maybe I can—”

“No.”

After that, Dean remains silent for a while, his eyes flickering back and forth between the laptop’s screen and Sam’s face. He is looking at the screen when he replies.

“There’s nothing, Sammy,” he says. “I’m fine. Let it go. I’ll be all right.”

The veins in Dean’s throat and in his temple are pulsing and Sam can see that Dean’s heart is beating very fast. He’s so twitchy that he jumps when Sam rises from the edge of the bed.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Sam says and takes a step towards the table. “I want to know what’s on your mind.”

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean says after another short pause, his eyes never leaving the fluorescent screen. “There’s nothing wrong. I’m A-okay.”

Sam takes another step towards Dean and tilts his head. “Dean,” is all he says, just his name, and just once.

Dean looks up. His eyes are wide and there’s an expression around his mouth that makes Sam’s stomach drop. Even though he doesn’t know what it is yet – something is definitely amiss and so, so terribly wrong.

“What is it?”

“I—“ Dean looks away, to the floor next to his chair, and clears his throat. “I—“

Sam waits. He can feel the rejection and defence that are surrounding Dean like a wall, like a fortress, slowly start to crack and he lets Dean take as many breaths as he needs until he can speak again.

“I forgot you,” Dean says and his words are so low that Sam can barely hear them.

“You…”

Dean looks up again and the walls are gone, for a short moment they are completely gone.

“But then you remembered. You know who I am.”

Dean shakes his head.

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, still whispering and his eyes never leaving Sam’s. “I’m not right in my head, Sammy. I… I forgot _you_. And… And I need to remember.”

Realization shoots through Sam like a knife to the guts. He thinks back over the last few weeks, back to the moment Rowena had freed Dean from the spell, he sees Dean walking down those stairs and that look on his face – and then he understands.

_“Oh.”_

Dean has never asked for it, never before, at least not with words, and Sam knows that he has to be very, very careful right now. His mind is racing and a faint flame of arousal begins to flicker in his stomach. He catalogues equipment and maps out different scenarios in his mind, desperate to come up with something before the moment passes.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, his voice almost breaking on that one word. He clears his throat again, lowering his gaze. “Well, yeah, never mind, I—“

“Look at me.”

Sam’s words are clear and sharp and Dean’s head snaps up immediately. 

“Get up, undress and kneel down.”

Dean seems frozen in place for a moment and time feels viscous. A myriad of thoughts and emotions flare up in Dean’s eyes and he seems unable to move.

“Now.”

Dean blinks once, twice and then he closes the laptop’s lid. He pushes his chair back and rises, taking a step towards the bathroom door.

“No. Here.”

Sam points to the bed next to him and squares his shoulders. There will be no hiding today.

Dean swallows and clenches his jaws. For a moment his hands ball into tight fists and he raises his chin, holding that stance for some seconds, not blinking, not breathing – but then he breaks. He nods.

Sam watches him walk over to the bed, his bed, and take his clothes off. There’s only the slightest hint of hesitation before Dean pulls his shirt over his head and it doesn’t take him much longer than a minute until he’s fully naked.

Dean takes a deep, shaky breath and turns around. His cock has already begun to harden and it twitches under Sam’s gaze.

Their eyes meet for a short moment before Dean slowly sinks to his knees, steadying himself with one hand braced against his upper leg. As soon as he’s kneeling, he raises his head again and stares straight ahead, eyes front, even though Sam hasn’t told him to do that.

 _He knows,_ Sam thinks, _he remembers._

Sam quickly walks over to the table to retrieve the handcuffs from Dean’s duffle bag. He doesn’t even have to say anything when he’s back with Dean – Dean crosses his hands at the wrists behind his back without being told to, and Sam cuffs him, making sure Dean feels the cold relentlessness of the metal and the merciless purpose in his movements.

Dean straightens his back and squares his jaws when Sam comes to stand right in front of him. He still doesn’t look up, and Sam is both impressed and a little annoyed. He knows Dean is somehow still avoiding a part of him and he can’t have that, not now.

“Look at me,” he commands and Dean looks up, biting his lips. “None of that.” Sam frowns and Dean immediately gets what he means, flexing his jaws and trying to relax his muscles. When their eyes meet again though, he relapses, and his lips turn white under the pressure of his bite.

Sam inhales sharply and backhands Dean so fast and so hard Dean can’t even draw a breath to steel himself.

The blow almost sends Dean toppling over but he catches himself in the very last moment. He quickly shakes his head and blinks before he straightens his back again and looks at Sam, looks him straight in the eyes. There’s a thin trickle of blood close to the corner of his mouth and his lips are slightly open now, his eyes wide and dark.

Sam hates hitting Dean in the face, hates the traces his hits leave on Dean’s lips, but he knows that Dean craves this, right now he craves this, and Sam will be damned if he doesn’t give Dean what he needs.

“Good,” he nods and reaches for Dean’s jaw. He cups it and runs his thumb over Dean’s split lip. “Now tell me what you remember.”

Dean stares at him with a blank face and just blinks, so Sam lets go of Dean’s chin and hits him again, same side, same cheek.

“The rules.”

Dean coughs as he adjusts his position and licks his lips.

“No talking, no touching, no coming – unless you tell me to.” His voice is flat and somehow hollow, yet there is a tremble in it that goes under Sam’s skin like nothing else.

Sam waits. There is more and Dean knows it. They have been over this too many times for Dean to have forgotten.

“You…” Dean swallows and draws a deep breath before he speaks again. “You are my brother. I take what you give me.”

Sam nods and tries to keep his features blank yet determined. He knows that this is the look that works best when Dean is like this.

“My safe word is—,“ there is just the briefest of pauses and if Sam didn’t know Dean so well, didn’t know _this_ so well, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed it, “—Alastair.”

They will need to have to talk about this, about that change and the new safe word, but not now. They will talk about this later. For now, Sam can work with that.

“Good,” he says again and reaches for the buckle of his belt. His fingers are steady and swift when he opens it and unbuttons his jeans to free his cock. “Open your mouth.”

Dean obeys instantly, opening his mouth wide and letting his lower jaw hang slack, just like Sam likes it.

Taking his already half-hard cock in his hand, Sam takes a step closer. He gives himself a few firm strokes before he brings the tip of his cock to Dean’s mouth. “Suck me off, but don’t make me come,” he instructs and Dean nods quickly before Sam shoves his cock between his lips.

Dean does his best to suck Sam off without the help of his hands. He hollows his cheeks and sucks and teases Sam with his tongue whenever he gets the chance and he makes his lips tight, so tight, and the pressure and friction is simply delicious. 

Dean’s mouth is warm and wet and Sam grows to full hardness quickly, the sight of Dean swallowing him like that causing his head to swim and his fingertips to tingle.

“Stop.” Dean freezes in mid-movement at Sam’s command and Sam reaches for Dean’s head, cupping his skull with both his hands, his fingers entangling with Dean’s hair. “Stay still.”

He starts to move his hips slowly, carefully rolling them, so his cock slips out of Dean’s mouth and pushes back in. It’s glistening with Dean’s saliva and Dean’s lips around it are almost as dark and throbbing as Sam’s cock itself. Almost the same color and just as wet and swollen.

Sam’s hips stutter and he fists his fingers into Dean’s hair, speeding up his thrusts until he’s fucking Dean’s mouth properly. And Dean just takes it, he takes Sam’s cock, helplessly gagging around it, coughing and sputtering, spit dripping from his mouth and his chin wet with it, until tears start running down his cheeks and his lips begin to turn a faint hue of blue.

He’s the sweetest thing Sam has ever seen and for a moment Sam is tempted to come like this, to keep fucking Dean’s mouth until he can’t take it anymore and comes down Dean’s throat, but the pleading look in Dean’s eyes reminds him that his brother still needs more.

Dean’s jaw stays slack when Sam pulls out and his eyes stay locked on Sam’s.

Sam just stares at him for a while, trying to catch his breath, his cock fat and wet and heavy in his hand, until he reaches out again and cups Dean’s face.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says softly and runs his thumb over were the blood has been just a few heartbeats ago, and Dean flinches ever so slightly. “Stay still,” Sam says and brushes over that spot again, and this time the only reaction is in Dean’s eyes.

When Sam looks down he can see that Dean is achingly hard and that there’s already pre-come pooling at his slit. “On the bed,” he says and turns Dean around and maneuvers him so that his head and his shoulders rest on the bed and his ass is exposed to Sam, just the way it should be.

Dean’s hands are clenched into fists at the small of his back and Sam stares at Dean for a while. “Hold yourself open for me,” he finally says and watches how Dean struggles to obey, trying to grab hold of and part his cheeks with his bound hands. “Wider,” he says, and: “More.”

His cock jerks in his grip and Dean’s ass looks so inviting, but he can’t have that just yet, there are still some things he needs to bring back to Dean’s memory.

“Good,” he says. “Now let go. Watch your hands.”

He reaches down and pulls his belt from his jeans, letting the worn leather run through his fingers a couple of times. A part of him wants to tell Dean to brace himself or to count, to warm him up somehow before he lands his first blow but he knows that that isn’t what Dean wants, what he needs. So he just takes one deep breath and brings the belt down on Dean’s ass with a swish and a crack, the leather hitting Dean’s pale skin hard.

_Dean._

Dean groans into the mattress, his cry muffled by the scratchy, smelly duvet and the covers below. 

Five, Sam decides, five on the whole. So four more should be enough.

_Remember who I am._

He raises his arm and delivers two blows in quick succession. Angry red lines well up on Dean’s skin, and for a second Sam thinks of the long trip ahead of them tomorrow and probably the day after and then he hits Dean again. Just one more to go, just one more time and then his fingers can let go of the belt and grab hold of something else.

The last blow is the hardest, and the sounds Dean makes send bolts of arousal through Sam’s whole body. He can feel a drop of pre-come ooze from his slit and run down his crown. By now he needs this just as much as Dean.

He drops the belt and kneels down behind Dean, pushing his legs apart roughly and coming to kneel between them. He spits onto his finger and rubs his spit over Dean’s entrance, almost pushing in, almost. Then he spits into his hand and coats his cock as good as he can. He knows that he should prepare Dean at least a little but neither of them really wants that so he simply positions himself and pushes into Dean in one languid thrust until he bottoms out.

For just a second or two Sam stays completely still, savoring the impossible tightness around his cock, the clenching of Dean’s muscles and the heat of his channel. He’s pulsing inside of Dean, his cock surrounded by Dean’s trembling body, and it’s almost too much to take. 

So he starts to move and soon he’s slamming into Dean with full force, fucking into him with everything he’s got, one hand at the nape of Dean’s neck and the other digging into his hip so hard his fingers leave marks.

Dean is moaning constantly, sobbing into the mattress, and Sam can feel himself approach the edge much faster than he anticipated. 

When Dean turns his head to the side, gasping for air, Sam’s hips stutter and he curses under his breath. This shouldn’t feel so blindingly good.

“Sam,” Dean croaks, his voice strangled and raw. “Gonna come.”

“No.” Sam reaches into Dean’s hair and fists it hard, pulling Dean’s head up until Dean coughs. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“Sammy, god,” Dean slurs, but Sam only tightens his grip and speeds up his thrusts until he knows his climax is imminent and he can’t stave it off a second longer. He straightens his back and pulls out of Dean just as his cock starts to spurt, and his come lands on Dean’s flushed skin, the small of his back, his ass cheeks, his crack and his hole.

Sam moans and runs the tip of his cock through the come stains, still shuddering through his release, and he pushes his come into Dean’s body, trembling, coming, burying himself in Dean again and again. His heart is beating so hard he thinks he’s going to pass out, and Dean’s face is hidden against the duvet again, his gasps for air and his begging muffled once more.

With trembling hands Sam holds on to Dean’s hips until his climax ebbs and his cock begins to soften. He pulls out, struggles to his feet, kicks off his shoes and quickly takes off his clothes.

“Up,” he says, lightly touching Dean’s shoulder, and Dean looks up at him, his face wet and sticky and his lips bitten bloody, or maybe it’s still that cut, Sam doesn’t know. Sam helps him get up and struggle to his feet and he waits until he can be sure Dean’s steady enough to stand on his own. “Turn around.” The handcuffs come off and Sam gently massages Dean’s wrists for a while before he sinks down onto the bed, pulling Dean with him. He kicks down the duvet and the covers underneath them and Dean even helps, rising his hips a little, his cock still red and hard and leaking against his stomach.

Sam pulls the covers up over them and pulls Dean flush against him, burying his face in Dean’s sweat-drenched hair. He reaches around Dean and runs his fingers down Dean’s spine and along his crack. When he reaches Dean’s hole, Dean shudders, and his cock twitches against Sam’s leg.

“You can come now if you want,” Sam says, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut against the damp skin of Sam’s shoulder. 

He shakes his head, and Sam places a soft kiss on the crown of Dean’s head, nuzzling into his hair. 

Dean shakes his head again and again but at the same time his hips begin to move, just small, shallow thrusts at first, but his body seems to be so wound up and so desperate for release that it takes over against Dean’s best and strongest efforts to make it stop. His moans run through Sam’s body like an electric current, and every thrust of Dean’s groin against his leg makes Sam’s heart clench.

“It’s okay,” he whispers and Dean shakes his head again. “It’s okay, I promise. It’s okay. I’ve got you…”

It takes Dean a long time to let go and when he finally comes, it’s just a dry, choked sob that escapes his lips, just one sharp, bone-shattering noise and then there’s silence. He empties himself holding his breath, silently accepting the betrayal of his body for what it is. Surrender.

Sam lets him. He holds him through the gasping, panting aftershocks of his orgasm and he allows him to come down a little in his arms, afterwards. Allows himself to hold his brother for a little while. And just a moment before Dean can get twitchy, before his mind kicks back in, Sam nudges his shoulder.

“Come on, buddy,” he says. “Go get cleaned up.”

Dean slips out from under the covers without hesitation and Sam watches him disappear into the bathroom, his ass covered in red welts and drying come stains. He listens to him moving around in the bathroom after the door has fallen shut, the sound of running water, a flushing toilet, Dean clearing his throat about a hundred times, the toilet again, and then more water. He closes his eyes and listens to Dean emerging from the bathroom and slipping under the covers of the other bed, pulling the covers up and exhaling shakily. He waits another couple of seconds before he goes to the bathroom himself, cleans himself up and puts on a t-shirt and some boxers.

When he comes back to the bedroom, Sam hesitates for a moment but then he climbs into his bed and rolls onto his side. Across the dark gap between their beds, he stares at his brother until his eyes start to burn.

Dean is lying on his side as well, curled up in an almost fetal position and facing away from Sam, the covers pulled up to his chin. He is fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](http://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come and say "Hi!"!


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